My Vision Was Missing A Vision Board

I’ll confess right off the bat that I do not have a vision board. I do however, have a bunch of pieces of paper I’ve ripped out of magazines with the intention of sticking them on one…..some day. This is how I roll. There are romantic beach photos with a fit couple strolling in the sunset. It was actually the fit woman that caught my attention. She is who I envision myself to be any day now. I am ignoring the fact that she is probably twenty and I am sixty five. I have hope that the vision board has real powers.

Leaving it in my flowered organizer has not proved magical powers to date. I do not look like my vision. Surely I don’t have to exercise to make this happen.

 

I have photos of colors that speak to me. One is an advertisement for the Jazz Festival in 2015. The intertwined decorated yellow sax over the pinkish red sax caught my eye immediately. The black and white piano keys added contrast. That photo will have a prime spot on my vision board. It makes me want to dance every time I look at it. That one is also in my flowered organizer, but it sticks up so I can see it daily.

 

 

There is a special picture of bright, multi-colored buildings. with strange things in the sky. I’m not sure how to describe it exactly, but the vibrant mix of colors called to me.

 

I’ve had this photo for years, as you can see. I always told myself, “One day I will use these colors for a book cover.” I’ve moved it around my desk over the years and finally it went into the flowered organizer with my other dreams. The colors have dull a bit over time, but I still love it.

 

 

When I wrote Angel Bumps, Hello From Heaven, I wanted a very special cover to match the stories inside. This cover had to be soft, sweet and tender. I knew I wanted an Angel and I searched and searched for the perfect one, to no avail.

A few days later, I searched one last time and what popped up gave me goosebumps. I came across a painting by Karen Fox Tarlton. It was titled, The Christmas Angel. She had the exact color scheme of the photo I’d saved over the years.

I envisioned writing a book to help people heal through grief. Things started to fall in place. I’d mention my story about my mom’s sign of a little white butterfly arriving when I felt sad and missed her. That butterfly arrived at my son’s wedding, a graduation and even playing with my grandson who never met my mom. This book will be published in September.

I better go buy that Vision Board today. Maybe I’ll burn some calories and look like the woman on the beach, after all. There just might be something to this envisioning idea.